


Making Love with the Devil Hurts

by VarjoRuusu



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Dark Captain Flint, Dark John Silver, I hesitate to use the word relationship, Just grumpy horny pirates, M/M, No Fluff, No one here is very happy, Rough Sex, Season 3, Smut, They are slightly more broken than usual, Violence, established something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 12:30:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14237352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VarjoRuusu/pseuds/VarjoRuusu
Summary: An encounter between Captain Flint and John Silver. Slightly on the darker side, but only mildly.





	Making Love with the Devil Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> I don't believe I didn't write anything all of March, wtf. Please enjoy this random smut.

“I hate you!” Silver cried, throwing the chair he'd been leaning on across the room. It clattered against the wall and to the floor, but didn't break. “I hate you so much, most days I want to kill you myself.”

“I know,” Flint nodded, not surprised or moved. He was still leaning calmly against the desk, his arms crossed and his eyes glued somewhere near Silver's boot. “I hate you most days too.”

“Then what the fuck are we doing?” Silver demanded, ignoring the tears that had sprung into his eyes. He was too angry right now to listen to his heart tearing itself to pieces in his chest. He was too angry to acknowledge the emotions running through him, telling him to stop.

“We're the most hunted men in the Caribbean,” Flint said with a small, derisive smirk. “We're doing whatever the fuck we want.”

“And you and I?” Silver asked, pressing forward, trying to keep his balance on his good leg. His stump was burning where he'd been leaning too much on the false leg.

Finally Flint's eyes met his and Silver almost wanted to take a step back, seeing the storm there.

“Like I said. Whatever the fuck we want,” he said, so softly that Silver strained to hear him. The darkness in his tone didn't fail to send the thrill through Silver, a deep shudder that ignited his blood and left his bones week, just like the first time Flint had held a knife to his throat, and every time since when _that_ look had been on his face. It was how Silver had ended up in Flint's bed in the first place, and this would be no exception.

“I hate you,” Silver whispered, and Flint just grinned his sharks grin, stepping forward to tangle the fingers of one hand in the hair not tied up behind Silver's head. His thumb pressed against Silver's jaw, then lower, where his pulse beat wildly and Silver fought back a swallow.

“I know,” Flint said softly, and then he pulled.

Silver's head dropped back and a guttural moan ripped from his throat as his hands clutched at Flint's arms, the only thing keeping him upright as Flint's mouth latched onto his neck, sucking hard enough to leave behind purple bruises that the whole crew would see. That was exactly what Flint wanted, he wanted to mark what was his, he wanted everyone to know. Some dark and twisted part of Silver was thrilled with the idea of being so owned, some part that he didn't acknowledge on a daily basis, just as he didn't acknowledge the voice in the back of his heart that told him he was in too deep, that he was really in love with Flint and there was no way out. Silver had a lot of inner voices that he regularly ignored.

Flint's hands were shoving away his coat, so similar to the one Flint himself wore, pushing it off Silver's arms and onto the floor. Then his hands were behind Silver's thigh's, lifting him up and turning spreading Silver out on his back across the desk, shoving papers and books to the side. Silver's hands curled around the back of Flint's shorn head, holding on tightly as Flint tugged at his clothes, pulling his shirt open and throwing his belt across the room.

Silver bit his lip when Flint dropped to his knees, face coming so close to his crotch that he wanted to whine as Flint eyed the hard bulge of his trapped cock, before he tugged his trousers open and pulled them down, tossing them away with his boot.

Flint's hands only became gentle when he unstrapped the peg and removed it carefully, spending far longer scrutinizing the wound than Silver was comfortable with.

“This needs tending,” he said quietly and Silver wrapped his good leg around Flint's head, pulling him forward so he was only inches away from where Silver's smallclothes still kept him from what he really wanted.

“I'll wash it after,” he growled and Flint grunted, his hand digging into Silver's good thigh. They stared at one another for a long moment then Flint huffed.

“Fine. But it won't be my fault if it get's infected again,” he said, shoving Silver's leg away and standing, tugging him to the edge of the desk and flipping him on his stomach, tugging his smallclothes down and away, leaving his ass bare to Flint's gaze.

“Do you even know what I could do to you when you're like this?” Flint asked, leaning down so he whispered in Silver's ear, hands covering his ass and kneading while Silver whined, trying to push back against the hard lines of Flint's body above him. “Have you ever been whipped, Mr. Silver?”

“N-No,” Silver stuttered, trying to pay attention to Flint's words.

“Hmm. I think you might enjoy it someday,” Flint said, leaning back far enough so that he could swing his arm, his palm landing with a resounding smack on Silver's ass, followed swiftly by two more strikes, one on either side as Silver cried out.

“Fuck,” Silver swore, his hands gripping the far edge of the desk tightly as his ass and cock throbbed. He wanted Flint in him and he wanted it right fucking now.

Seeming to read his thoughts, Flint wasted no more time with foreplay. Instead he reached over and pulled a bottle of oil from the drawer and poured some on his hand, sliding his fingers between Silver's ass cheeks and over his hole, pressing down once before he roughly slid two fingers inside, pumping them almost harshly. Silver whined and thrashed below him, trying to push himself back on Flint's hand.

“Hold still,” Flint growled, putting a hand on the back of Silver's neck and holding him down.

“Fuck me already,” Silver snapped in response.

Flint twisted his fingers and pressed them down hard, grinning when Silver screamed, then his fingers were gone and he was tugging his belt open and shoving his trousers aside, stroking his cock twice with his oiled hand before he lined up and pushed, sliding into Silver like the other man was made for him.

Silver screamed at the painful stretch, stars exploding behind his eyes as Flint fucked into him roughly and he moaned, still trying to push back for more.

“You're so fucking greedy,” Flint growled, laying across Silver and pinning him to the desk, holding his wrists tight enough that he could feel the bones scraping as he fucked the other man.

“Like you said,” Silver gasped, tilting his head in welcome when Flint's mouth descended on his neck again. “Whatever we want.”

“I hate you,” Flint growled, reaching down for Silver's cock and fisting it roughly, tugging quickly as he angled his hips to make Silver scream, and scream he did.

He arched against Flint, overwhelmed by the sensations and he nearly blacked out as Flint twisted his hand, wringing a release harder than he could ever remember from him. Flint growled against his neck as his body bucked, his cock pulsing in Flint's hand, then Flint stilled, his hips snapping forward one last time before Silver vaguely felt heat filling him and he sagged against the desk, Flint a heavy weight on top of him.

They were silent for a few minutes before Flint pulled away, wiping himself with Silver's shirt and tucking himself back into his pants as Silver managed to roll on his back, the remains of his shirt hanging from his arms. It was ripped down the front and there would be no saving it.

“Clean that,” Flint snapped, gesturing at his leg. “Then get on deck. It's your watch in an hour.”

The door slammed behind him and Silver fell back on the desk, staring up at the cabin ceiling, wondering how long it would take a one legged man to drown if he threw himself overboard. But no, he hated Flint too much to give up this easily. He wasn't going to let the other man win, even if it cost him everything from his dignity to his life.

Putting himself back together, Silver took on of Flint's shirts, leaving his in a heap by the bed, and he went out on deck as if nothing was wrong. The only difference now was he leaned on his crutch, having left the peg in the cabin so the night air could help the wound on his leg. Flint watched him cross the deck, but Silver simply kept walking, ignoring him, head held high and bruises proudly on display. Next time, it would be Flint sporting the bruises and they both knew it. Not a single member of the crew said a word, or even looked at Silver twice. They knew better than to get in the middle of this war.


End file.
